The Memoirs of Evangeline Bernard
by GreekMythFan7
Summary: AU of the Leroux novel. Will have some influence from the other adaptations but will try to stay faithful! Evangeline Bernard was there when the Chandelier fell, when the diva was kidnapped and fled, when the Comte died, but the question is what happened? Her son upon receiving a request from a friend has decided to release her memoirs as to finally let her story be known.
1. Chapter 1

To whom it may concern,

The events of which I am to account are not from my own memory, rather they are the accounts of my mother the late Evangeline Bernard. Our family was recently sent a request to release these accounts. As the request was from an old friend of mine and as she had expressed that she wanted her accounts to be known one day, I am happy to oblige. My name, my name is not important to this story, as they happen before I was born. Even the later ones I have only the faintest memory of. For the friend who has asked these accounts to be released to him, know that I have taken the liberty of altering some of them as to protect the innocence of my late mother and my family. However Gaston, know that I write this to you, in order to help you express the story you wish to present to the public. I begin the way you have expressed to me you wish to begin your tale…The Opera Ghost did exist.

Regards,

G.

Chapter 1-The Opera Ghost Did Truly Exist

The Opera Ghost did exist, not just as a figment of the imagination, as some may have you believe. No, he was a man, a man of ordinary flesh and blood, alive as you and me. While he was considered a horror to many, having wreaked havoc for years amongst the halls of the Palais Garnier, he was also many other things… A composer, a magician, an architect, one may have called him a genius, but to a select few, he was simply known as Erik.

I was one of those select few, originally handpicked to be the box keeper of his personal seat in Box 5. I was also in time, one of an even fewer group of people that Erik could call his friend. During the events that led to the rise and kidnapping of the Prima Dona Christine Daae, I was there. I was there when she fled Paris with her beloved Raoul, and I know what truly happened to the poor Comte Philippe de Chagny before his body was found on the shores of the lake beneath the opera house.

It all began when I was quite young, a girl just shy of 18. I remember it all as if it was just yesterday…the colors, the music, the grandeur, the emotions that would send even the most level headed of people spinning. I was living with my Grandparents at the time having moved from the country side to Paris after breaking off the engagement between myself and a family friend.

My grandfather, Gabriel Bernard, was one of the kindest people I ever knew. Something that many would find odd, given the hand he was given at his birth. When he was born, he was born with only half a face. The right-side of his face was graced by nearly raw flew, partly bald on that side, an elongated nostril, no eyebrow, different colored eye and a swollen lip. This misfortune had left him having to wear a mask that covered that side of his face topped off by a When he was born, he was born with only half a face. The right-side of his face was graced by nearly raw flew, partly bald on that side, an elongated nostril, no eyebrow, different colored eye and a swollen lip. This misfortune had left him having to wear a mask that covered that side of his face topped off by a wig. His parents though, always treated him like the gift that he was to them, their only child that had been born alive. Having inherited a large sum upon the death of his father he kept the family business running from afar, before passing it on to my own father who ran it until his untimely death when I was five.

One would assume that someone in his position he would have become harsh unkind, a monster to be feared by all. He may have turned that way had it not been for the gentle hands of my grandmother Marie, who met him when she was simply a maid in his father's house in his youth. She had accidently stumbled into my grandfather's private room while cleaning, while his mask was off. Grandfather likes to tell the story as though she jumped into his arms upon seeing him love at first sight, grandmother said that it was more of she was concerned for his health thinking her employer had been horrible injured. It was only later after the whole terrible incidents at the Opera were over did I happen to notice the similarities between their tale and the one I myself had seen.

Soon after I arrived in Paris, I began to work at the Opera in the costume department. An opportunity given to me by my Uncle and Godfather Richard Firmin, who was in the works of taking over as manager. It is during this time that my story begins.

**A/N: Hello Phantom Fans! Remember me? Yes I return like a phoenix out of the ashes! Now for many of you who may have read my completed POTO FF, 'THE PHANTOM' and are fans of its sequel (which is going to be updated….eventually) welcome back. For anyone new, welcome. I decided to try my hand on sort of an AU of my AU, one that I hope will follow the Leroux novel more than it does the musical. For the new comers don't worry, this story while sharing a similar backstory to my old ones does not require them to be followed. However the question comes up will this end like my other one? Tell me what you think with this first chapter/ prologue. As usual some chapters may be really short, but I am going for quality rather than quantity. **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2- The Story of The Ghost

When I first walked through the doors of the Opera House, I did not know how in that one moment my entire life would change. Some would say that fate had decided that it was my time then say evaluate that out how you can.

I had been working at the Garnier for only a few days when I first heard the story of the Phantom of the Opera. Apparently it was an unspoken tradition that whenever something mysterious happened, the ghost would be blamed for it and then rumors would fly around about him. While everyone gossiped I was silent, it was my first time even hearing about a ghost stalking the opera. What else was I to do?

"What about you Evangeline?" asked one of my coworkers, "What have you heard?"

I looked up from the costume I was sorting at the time, confused, "Heard about what?"

"The ghost, he has struck again!"

"The what?" I asked.

"The ghost." another of my coworkers explained, "Surely you have heard of him?"

I shook my head, "Sorry, I do not believe in ghosts."

"What do you mean? Who else could be behind what happens around here."

"I do not know, a careless stage hand, a moment lapse in one's memory," I shrugged, "But a ghost is not a very strong possibility."

"You tease, Evangeline, surely you must have felt his presence around here?"

"How many times do I have to say it before you get it through your heads?" I stated, "I do not believe in ghosts."

They laughed at me, "You just have not been here long enough."

"I doubt that makes a difference.'

As if it was a joke they continued to laugh, the coworker closest to me, a young women named Louisa, grabbed my hand and began to drag me away, "Come on."

"Where are you taking me?" I asked.

"To Joseph," she explained quickly, "He has actually seen the ghost! If anyone can make you believe Joseph."

"If you say so Louisa." I said humoring her.

Joseph Bouquet was one of the stage hands at the Opera House, he was mainly in charge of the fly system and the shifting of the scenes. For a few years now he had apparently been the prime expert in the subject of the Opera's local specter. By the time Louisa and I had reached him, the stage hand had already gathered an audience mostly consisting of the young members of the Corps de Ballet.

"Look who it is!" he cried out when we entered the room he was in, "Louisa who is your pretty new friend?"

I felt the eyes of all in the room land on me, "This is Evangeline Bernard, she just started in costumes," said Louisa

He bowed his head to me politely, "Welcome to our family mademoiselle, I take it you are here to hear the tale of our local specter?"

"Actually…" I began before being cut off by Louisa.

"She does not believe in ghosts"

There was a collective gasp amongst the ballerinas. Joseph Bouquet on the other hand laughed amused by the turn of events, "That certainly will not do. You need to believe in the ghost."

"Why?" I questioned.

"Because the ghost demands it, he will go out of his way to make sure those who don't do."

"Can you even prove that this ghost exists?"

"I can," nodded Joseph, "I have seen him with my own two eyes."

"If the ghost is a ghost how did you see him?"

"The ghost occasionally takes on a physical form," he explained.

"He is a skeleton in dress-clothes!" exclaimed one of the ballerinas.

I raised my eye brows as Joseph nodded, "I had a run in with him on the little staircase by the footlights, the one that leads to the cellars, that is his domain. He was extraordinarily thin his dress coat hangs upon a skeleton frame. His eyes are deep within his skull, you can barely even see the fixed pupils, and all you can see are two big black holes. The skin is stretched across the skull, it is a nasty shade of yellow and he has no nose. All the hair he has is three or four dark locks of hair on his forehead and behind his ears," He paused to let the image set in the minds, "I had only seen him for a second before he fled."

"Quite the imagination you have Monsieur." I stated calmly.

The mouths of the corps de ballet were all a chatter, no doubt talking about how I was doomed now that I have been so adamant in my disbelief about this specter. Bouquet however did not seem to be shaken by my statement, he just shrugged, before continuing to tell tales to the ballerinas. I turned to Louisa, "I should be getting home, I will see you tomorrow."

"Be careful on your way home." She replied.

As I left the room, the ballerina's screamed in fright. "I saw him! He is a dark figure in the rafters," one of them shrieked. I shook my head in disbelief, a ghost, how could people believe in such things.

I returned to the area where I had been working on the costumes to pick up my shawl. For some reason although I had only left the area for a few minutes the feel of the room felt off. It felt as though I was being watched. Wrapping my shawl around my shoulders I just shook my head, a stage hand must have been up in the rafters somewhere checking on the backdrops. Yes, that was it I decided, after all there is no such thing as ghosts…no matter how much people may try to convince me otherwise.

As I turned the corner out of the stage area, I found out the reason why I felt eyes staring at me. Or rather I walked into one of the reasons.

_**A/N: The start of Evangeline's days is the Opera House! Fun fact a few of these passages here are actually from the Leroux Novel (I do not own them) such as Bouquet's descript of our good old Phantom. As you will see later in this tale, Evangeline is actually quite suspicious but tries hard to suppress these feelings, it is why she is so adamant about it. Who do you think Evangeline walked into?**_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3- The Man and the Persian

He had be walking to the stage, neither of us apparently looking where we were heading and therefore we collided. The man was bigger than me, as a result I soon found myself on the ground at his feet.

"I am terrible sorry mademoiselle." The gentleman apologized, extending a hand towards me, "You are not injured I presumed."

Taking the man's hand, "It was only a short fall Monsieur," I began to lift myself off of the ground, "Besides it was I who ran into you."

"Nonsense," he said, "What sort of gentleman would I be if I did not take responsibility."

I was now back on my feet, patting down the skirt of my dress, "How about we agree that we are both at fault." I suggested looking up the gentleman seeing his face for the first time. He had to be at least twenty years my senior yet I could not help but to find him good looking,

"If that is what you would like," he said releasing my hand.

"You do not have agree with me so easily you know," I said beginning to walk away.

The man just shook his head, "You be careful now."

"I will," I said continuing on my way.

Apparently tonight was not my night for stranger encounters with men for just as I was about to exit of the Opera House I was approached by another man. "Mademoiselle!" he spoken in an eastern accent.

I turned in the direction of the voice, he was a darker skinned man with emerald eyes upon his head rested an astrakhan cap. "Can I help you?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yes…" I said confused by this man's question, "Do I know you?"

"Oh I am sorry," the gentleman apologized, "My name is Nadir Kahn." He looked at me as though I should know who he is. After a few moments, the man explained further, "The Persian."

"I'm sorry monsieur," I apologized, "I have only been here a few days, I am not yet acquainted with what goes on around here."

"Ah," the man sighed, "Then I am terribly sorry to have confused you. I mean to say you have not had a run in with the ghost?"

"Oh, not you too?" I grumbled. Did everyone under this roof believe in this specter.

"Excuse me?"

"Monsieur, I do not believe in ghosts," I explained yet again, "And I wish that people would stop asking me if I have heard or seen the one that haunts this building."

"But Mademoiselle," he began to say.

"Is there a problem here?" questioned a man's voice.

The 'Persian' and I looked towards the direction from which the voice had come from. Walking towards us was handsome gentleman I had walked into earlier. Just as he was earlier he held his head high. The gentleman eyed the 'Persian' with a gaze of a passing acquaintance, he must have been a frequent patron of the Opera House to recognize him.

"No, monsieur. No problem at all, I am just making sure the young lady is alright."

The handsome gentleman looked briefly at the 'Persian' before turning his attention to me, "Is he telling the truth?"

"Yes," I confirmed glad to be off the topic of the Opera Ghost.

"Ah, and what did the young lady do to have her condition questioned?" he questioned, "I know, I caused you to fall earlier, however you assure me you were alright."

"I am?" I said, "However Monsieur Kahn thought I had a run in with…"

"The Opera Ghost," finished the gentleman exasperated. From the tone of his voice he obviously had heard tales of the specter a few too many times. It was a nice change for the day to hear, someone also sounding sane. "Please, leave the young lady alone. If someone does not want to believe in the Phantom they are allowed too."

"Of course," answered the 'Persian', bowing his head slightly, "Good night then, Mademoiselle" The 'Persian' walked away leaving with me with the gentleman.

"Sorry about disturbing you again mademoiselle."

"I believe we agreed that earlier we were both at fault," I said.

"Must be the gentleman in me once again," he commented.

"Must be," I replied pulling my shawl closer around my shoulders, "I must be heading home, it is getting late."

"Alright," he said nodding, "Do you need any help to do so?"

"No, it is only a few streets away," I explained, although it was the truth, I felt uncomfortable that this stranger was offering to walk me home.

"Then you be careful then," he said in a charming voice paired with an equally charming smile. The man bowed his head slightly to me before turning on his heels and heading back up the stairs.

I stood there for several seconds dumbfounded at the meetings with the mysterious gentleman and the man who called himself 'The Persian'. All of this on top of all this talk about a 'ghost'. Despite the fact that I knew I was alone, I still felt as though there were eyes staring down upon me. I shook my head as I touched the silver cross that I wore around my neck. All this talk along with the encounters must have set me off.

Taking another look around I confirmed my suspicions, I was in this room alone. I was definitely set off by the events of today. Releasing my cross I left the Opera House, beginning my journey to my Grandparents home on the Rue de Provence. All the way home until I had entered the house, I still felt a set of eyes upon me.

_**A/N: WHOOP! WHOOP! New Chapter! Who is this Gentleman? I'll give you a hint…it is NOT Erik, though it seems as though he may be in this chapter. As I said before although Evangeline is adamant in how she does not believe in ghosts, she is supersicous, maybe she really does believe in them? What do you all think so far of the story, it may be bit of a slow start but trust me it will get there. I actually have this story basically done in terms of planning and it is just a matter of putting words on the page. Before I go just a quick side note, although this fic is based mostly on Leroux's novel (I try) there will be some influences from my favorite Phantom Adapts (Miniseries, Cartoon, Musical ect), however don't expect anyone to break out into song here….**_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4- An Admirer?

Despite my encounters from the night, once I got home I slept like the dead. I awoke in the morning to the smell of baking pastries. It was a smell I was accustomed to waking up to. My grandmother, before she had married my grandfather had been a servant within his household. During that time she was a woman of all trades, but her favorite job to do was baking the pastries. I had asked her once why it was her favorite, she explained to me that when she was young, pastries were a luxury and if she was baking them it would give her an excuse to try a few.

The smell wafted into my room and succeeded to rouse me from my slumber. I nearly jumped out of my bed the smell was so intoxicating. After getting out of my nightgown and into one of my simple dresses, I walked down to the dining room ready to feast on delicious breakfast pastries.

My grandfather was already sitting in his usual spot at the head of the table. He had yet to put on his mask, he in his old age preferred now to not wear it unless he absolutely had to. Still I could still see it resting on his lap as he read the morning news. Grandmother, was nowhere to be seen, yet I could hear her soft melodious humming coming from the other side of the door that led to the kitchen.

"Good morning my dear," said my grandfather as I placed a kiss on his bald head, "How did you sleep? You went right to bed last night, you did not even have dinner with your Grandmother and I, tiring day yesterday?"

"Must have been?" I answered shrugging as sat down, I forgot that I gone to bed without supper.

"I do not know what is so tiring about…what do you do there?"

"Costumes," I answered, "I sort the costumes the actors wear on stage."

"See how is that tiring," Grandfather said, "Sorting clothing, how had can that be?"

I just shrugged at his statement, I knew he was just playing with me. As if to confirm this, he broke into a smile and winked at me. Soon my grandmother entered into the dining room from the kitchen, in her hand was a silver platter. On the platter was a teapot with matching tea cups along with a plate of freshly baked fruit filled pastries, my favorite.

Grandmother approached the table and placed the platter in between the three places that had been set, before sitting down in her seat across from me. As I set out the three tea cups, I paused to once again get a whiff of the heavenly aroma that came off from the mixture of the tea and the pastries. Grandfather wasted no time in grabbing the first pastry off of the platter, he was probably the person who loved my grandmother's baking the most.

"Gabriel," my Grandmother scolded, "They are still hot. You will burn yourself."

Grandfather looked down at the warm pastry in his hand, resisting the urge to eat it in one bite, "Marie…it is not like I have not done it before."

"I know you have" she said, "And I warn you each time too." I could not help but to laugh at the two of them, it was not the first time I had heard the two banter like this. They would have continued to do so, if there was not a rap from the front door. Grandmother took a sip of her tea that had been poured for her before she got up from her seat, "I'll get it."

As Grandmother walked away to answer the door, Grandfather broke up the pastry in half allowing steam to escape. "Not as much fun when she is not around to scold me." I just shook my his statement, grabbing my own pastry from the platter. Grandmother had reentered the room a few minutes later, by then Grandfather and I had already begun to eat our breakfast.

In her hand was a bouquet of flowers, based on books I have read I could see that it included Begonias, Geraniums, and Moluccella laevis, all of them wrapped together with a dark purple ribbon. She came up to me and placed them next to the saucer for my teacup. "These arrived for you."

I nearly spit out my tea. "Excuse me?"

"These flowers arrived for you," explained Grandmother sitting back down in her seat.

I looked down to the note attached to the ribbon, on it was my name however I did Mnot recognize the handwriting, which although childish and clumsy had an air of sophistication to it. "What did the sender look like?"

"I do not know." She explained, "When I got to the door, no one was there. The flowers had just been left on the doorstep."

"Seems your admirer is very secretive," said my Grandfather.

"You are one to talk Gabriel," Grandmother murmured, "You wore your mask most of the time you were courting me."

"I heard that," he commented.

Although they continued to jab at one another in this fashion for the rest of breakfast but I paid them no intention. I was too interested in the bouquet of flowers, it was not the first I had received, but somehow it was the most intriguing. Previous ones that I had received I knew who they were, mainly from my former fiancé Louis. But this one I had no idea who they could be from, after all the only men I had been in contact with lately were at the Opera House, none of them as far as knew would know where I lived and besides very few even knew who I was since I was new. The eyes that I could swear were following me on my way home last night, did someone truly follow me home?

_**A/N: **_**I may have been a little bit hungry while writing this chapter. Here we get our first glimpse at Evangeline's life outside of working at the Opera. We will be seeing more of these scenes later in the story. Who do you think the flowers are from? Fun Fact! I actually looked up the language of flowers to choose, if you look up the meaning you may be able to find a clue as who sent the bouquet. Feel free to review or subscribe. See who all soon! **


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5- La Sorelli

The eyes were nowhere to be felt on my way back to the Opera House, I surprisingly found this fact to be very odd. After receiving the flowers from an unknown source I half expected to once again feel the eyes bare down on me once again. By the time I was about to enter the Opera House, I had thought that perhaps that I was just being paranoid, that I had imagined the eyes the previous evening, after all there was no reason for anyone to following me home in the first place.

But there were the fact of the unknown sender of the bouquet of flowers. Who could have sent them? I supposed it could have been a fellow employee of the Opera House, it would not be impossible for one of them to find out where I lived, but that left the fact that my name was on the not attached to the flowers. Very few of the employees, except those within my department, knew my name, though yet again it would not be impossible for one to ask around for it.

The only other suspects in my mind were just a little too creepy to put true suspicion on. There was the 'Persian' fellow but he did not seem to be the type to follow me let alone send flowers. He seemed to be more concerned about my safety with that 'ghost' anyway. That left the mysterious gentleman that I had run into twice on my exit. He was a viable candidate, after all he had just appeared when I had my run in with the 'Persian'.

Although I was focused on my work, I still must have seemed distracted by something for Louisa and some of the other costume girls came over to me, "Evangeline?" questioned Louisa, "Are you all right?"

I looked up from the costume that I had been mending, "Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, yes I just have something weighing on my mind," I explained.

Louisa's interest must have been intrigued for she showed no sign of leaving, she immediately picked up another costume and began to work next to me as she pressed me for more information. "What is it?"

"I received a bouquet of flowers this morning," I said, "I have no idea who they are from though"

"Oh," Louisa sighed jealously, "Someone has an admirer, one with some money too if he sent you a bouquet. Any idea of who it could be?"

"What part of 'no idea who they are from' do you not understand?" I questioned.

"Just because you do not know who exactly sent them, does not mean you do not have a suspect or two." Louisa said defending herself, "Besides a secret admirer is the best kind of admirer."

My thoughts returned to the 'Persian' and the gentleman I had run into on my way home the night before. I half thought about telling Louisa about them, maybe she could have cleared up their identities for me. "Not a one," I shrugged instead.

"Ah," Louisa sighed disappointed, "If you find out anything be sure to let me know."

"You'll be the first." I said.

"Excuse me?" questioned a female voice.

Louisa and I both looked up at the voice, apparently we had been so engrossed in our conversation that we did not noticed as a young women had approached us. She was older than me, by a few years at least by the looks of it, her build was that of a dancer. The woman also had a beautiful elegance to her, the tight bun that graced the top of her head gave me the impression of someone who was strict and took things seriously.

"Sorelli," acknowledged Louisa. So this was the La Sorelli, the prima ballerina of the company. She was a talk around all of Paris, she had many of an admirer but she had dedicated herself to her art. "How can we help you, are you having an issue with one of your costumes?"

"No," she said kindly, "Louisa, the adjustment you made last week is perfect." Sorelli turned her attention to me, "I came over to meet our new costume girl, I have been so busy with rehearsals lately I have not had time to until now."

"Evangeline Bernard," I said introducing myself to the ballerina.

"Pleasure," said Sorelli, something in her voice made me think that she was up to something, I may have been imagining it though. "I heard that you had some issues on your way home last night."

"You heard about that?" I asked shocked.

"Wait. What happened?" asked Louisa.

"The younger ballerinas," Sorelli explained, "They tend to gossip."

I thought back to the night before, how the ballerinas were gathered together last night hanging on to every word that Joseph said about the ghost. It would really not surprise me if they were not the kind to gossip. Maybe that is why I felt the eyes on me last night, there must have been a stage hand as I had thought who then reported to others.

"I do not know what you heard," I said trying to think about what might have been said, "But I assure you I am fine."

"As I can see you here in front of me I can only assume that you are," joked Sorelli, given my initial impression of her it was odd to hear her sound like that.

"Will someone please explain to me what happened?" asked Louisa confused.

There were giggles coming from the other side of the stage, Sorelli gave an irritated sigh, "I cannot leave them for five minutes." She turned her focus back to Louisa and I, "I am sorry but I must get back to the rehearsal. We will talk again." Her face became stern as it had been when she first approached, with ease she turned on her heals and walked back over to where the ballerinas were supposed to be practicing their routine.

"She seems nice." I commented going back to the costumes in front of me. Louisa still looked confused as she pushed down the costume that I had been folding.

"What happened?" asked Louisa.

"If the ballerinas are gossiping about it," I said shrugging, "You will hear about it soon enough."

"No," said Louisa, "I want to hear it from the source. The ballerinas tend to exaggerate some details."

"Louisa…" I began almost telling her that I did not want to talk about it, but instead I told her everything that happened.

"No wonder, Sorelli asked you if you were alright?" said Louisa, "I have heard that 'The Persian', never asks about someone about the Phantom unless they are in danger."

I sighed, "Louisa."

She stopped me mid-sentence, "I know you do not believe in him I am just saying what I know. As for the identity of the gentleman you 'ran' into…"

"Why are you pausing?"

"For dramatic effect," said Louisa she paused again, "I have no idea who he could be."

"Thanks…"

"It is just that a lot of patrons walk around backstage."

"I realize that," I answered turning my full attention back to the costumes.

_**A/N: **_**YAY FOR ANOTHER UPDATE! Sorry about the wait (those that read this), it is just that during the course of the summer I was working and taking an EMT class which did not exactly leave a lot of free write time if you know what I mean. Currently back at school so updates wont be SUPER frequent but type as a stress relief so…Any who I realize La Sorelli only makes a brief appearance here, but she is here and I could not think of another chapter title. She will be back for appearances in later chapters…DO you know who the mysterious gentleman is? Who sent the flowers? (Review with you guess!) WHERE THE HELL IS ERIK? (he's around) keep in mind folks despite be the titular character he really does get a lot of page time…don't worry he'll come on later just need to coast him out of the lair... **


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